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The second Mukton Lode scoop, the one so deftly handled the night of Arthur Breen's dinner to the directors, had somehow struck a snag in the scooping with the result that most of the "scoopings" had been spilled over the edge there to be gathered up by the gamins of the Street, instead of being hived in the strong boxes of the scoopers.
He was kicked off the poop, and his arm, as a consequence, needed resetting. Johnson had been aloft, but there was murder in his dark eyes when he came down at supper-time. Yet he knew its futility, and while bandaging the broken arm earnestly explained, as Breen's groans would allow, that if he killed one the other two would kill him, and nothing would be gained.
This was apparent in the rise and fall of Breen's heels, as he seesawed back and forth on the hearth-rug in the satin-lined drawing-room, with his coattails spread to the life less grate, and from the way he glanced nervously at the mirror to see that his cravat was properly tied and that his collar did not ride up in the back. The only calm person in the house was the ex-widow.
Judge Breen's son was, both by blood and training, the social equal of any man, and although the distinguished engineer, being well born himself, seldom set store on such things, he recognized his obligation in Jack's case and sought the first opportunity to tell him so. "You will find a great change in your surroundings, Mr. Breen," he had said.
Had any of the jury been alive and some of them were or the prosecuting-attorney, or even any one of the old settlers who attended court, they could have told in a minute which one of the two young men was Judge Breen's son. Not that Jack looked like his father.
"Clever, these supposedly impractical scientists," murmured Jim, with a lightness that did not quite succeed in covering his real admiration of the shrewdness of the thought. And now they stood in front of Breen's glass bell, with Breen beside them all eagerness to begin the experiment. "What am I supposed to do after I've reduced you to the proper size?" he asked.
When it came to Geordie's turn, he gave his name 'George Crawford, frae the pairish o' Kilsyth, Scotland, an' ye'll juist pit doon the lad's name, Maister Craig; he's a wee bit fashed wi' the discoorse, but he has the root o' the maitter in him, I doot. And so Billy Breen's name went down.
Doubtless I could drag nothing at all from the fellow, even though I did succeed in laying hands upon him. If he had been set to watch me he would continue to do so unless I scared him away. I resolved to let him alone for the time being; but the first thing I did after reaching Dr. De Breen's offices was to ring up headquarters and request the Captain to send a man to get on my shadow's trail.
Breen's dinners and entertainments had been as frequent and as exclusive, and Miss Corinne had continued to run the gamut of the gayest and best patronized functions without, the Scribe is pained to admit, bringing home with her for good and all both her cotillion favors and the gentleman who had bestowed them. Mrs.
The ladies had not yet descended to the beach; apparently their interest in Dr. Breen's patient kept them. "How is Mrs. Maynard this morning?" he asked; and she answered, as they got beyond earshot, "Not better, I'm afraid." "Oh, I'm sorry," said the young man. "Then you won't be able to drive with me this morning? I hope she is n't seriously worse?" he added, recurring to Mrs.
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